Undesirable Anomaly
by Flawed Sanity
Summary: A manifestation of my lonely contemplations with Vanitas as the leading role. He depicts my thoughts and beliefs of the meaning for my existence, isolation, life and society. But nonetheless, an anomaly is an anomaly no matter how intelligent it becomes... Disclaimer: The picture belongs to soraka of deviantART


_Disclaimer: The amazing picture of Vanitas I used for the cover belongs to soraka of deviantART_

Undesirable Anomaly

One-shot

* * *

_~An empty box is presented to me. None see as it as I do. I no longer wait for the thaw you bring...~_

Anomaly. Noun: Deviation from the normal or common order or form or rule.

An anomaly, whether it be wanted or unwanted, is an anomaly all the same. It is a word used to define the unusual, the oddity or the deviations bound to appear to in every system. And if society is analogous to a single large system, then just what is the fate of the anomalies bound to deviate from the regular masses of raw data?

Recognition, conformity or isolation.

Of the three choices, the most desirable one is the first 'recognition'. It is a fate bestowed upon the desirable anomalies beneficial to the system of society. Yet, only a meager percentage of the anomaly population is ever lucky enough to be recognized. Among these are, of course, the ingenious deviates such as Leonardo da Vinci and Isaac Newton. The members of society give never ending praise for their useful accomplishments and discoveries.

A less generous but more civil fate for an anomaly is 'conformity'. It is what can be described as an amnesty decreed by the system, with the condition of the anomaly having to surrender its individualistic ideals and assimilate with that of the general masses'. A good majority of the anomaly population choose to obey this _lenient _sentence given. However, this option is not painless. More than often, the anomaly is left but an empty shell of its former self. Sacrifice, so to speak. To gain acceptance, one must relinquish one's deviant ideals. In exchange, the vast masses of indistinguishable data will welcome the anomaly with open arms and declare them as _improved _or _better_. No notable names ever lie in this category for they have all become nameless uniform pieces of data. A life far less painless than the third.

'Isolation', the precursor to ruin, as some might say. It is a fate worse than death, to be scorned and mocked by a bottomless quantity of data comprising the system. For good reason, very little anomalies are said to withstand its torments. This is the fate of those resilient and persevering concerning their unusual deviations. And unlike that of the second fate, the anomalies of 'isolation' are distinguishable from the masses and are deemed as _foreign__, infidel _or _freaks_.

It can therefore be concluded, that the fate of all anomalies is wholly dependent on the eyes of the system, a fate cruel in its own right.

**by V. C.**

* * *

"There," said a boy in triumph, "done. One short essay on the anomalies of the system of society complete."

He leaned back on his computer chair in satisfaction. The boy looked to be about fifteen years of age and had spiky jet black hair, golden amber eyes, a ghastly pale complexion and a muscular build. He wore a black and white hoodie over a black shirt with a muscle tissue design and some regular black and red checkered boxers. And as of current, the black-haired youth was spending his time doing one of his few hobbies, writing short essays. It was a peculiar hobby the boy had developed since he was twelve.

At the said age, he had gotten into a car accident and ended up hospitalized with most of his body in a cast. This left the boy trapped in the hospital for a long period of time. And for better or worse, the boy's left arm was still intact, plus he was left-handed. He thought of keeping track of The boy's tended to stray from reality at most times, so all through writing. So, the golden-eyed boy had his parent's brought his laptop to his room for him to start typing. At first, it was difficult with only one hand to type with, but overtime, the boy's fingers strengthened and pressed buttons swifter and more accurately. Notably however, the boy had an incomprehensibly twisted personality, and as such, his writing was just as twisted.

After a couple months and some physical therapy, he was released from the hospital. By then, the boy had already written over twenty short essays on topics that interested him. And at home, the boy continued putting all his thoughts into word, Microsoft Word that is. He would usually go about it by simply leaving his left hand on the laptop's keyboard, while the rest of his body just focused on the topic at hand. The boy had become capable of typing single-handedly, allowing him to keep up with his school work.

He did, however, try not to let it rule his life, so he did other hobbies like skateboarding around town sometimes. Nevertheless, three years had passed since his hospitalization and he had pretty much tripled the number of saved essays on his computers.

He had just finished his latest installment, an essay on the anomaly or deviant and it's fate at the system's hand. The boy felt proud of his most recent work. Not exactly his best, but far more decent than the rest. He himself was an anomaly, an unwanted one at that. And for his fate, he had chosen, from the options given by the system, 'isolation'. He didn't want to lose the one thing that made him Vanitas. The boy's thoughts were distorted, and he realized this. But in his perspective, it was this distortion that gave his words some flare. So, he had chosen the worst of the three fates.

Vanitas Caelum, the unwanted anomaly, social pariah of Twilight High School, the isolated loner content with being disliked by society.

He could still recall his first day after returning from the hospital. It was the middle of December and he was late for the opening flag ceremony. That day was the day he had chosen for himself the miserable path of isolation. The path only bearable for those who truly desired it. Deep down inside however, Vanitas knew he craved acceptance, but as mentioned before, he could never surrender what made him Vanitas.

So, the boy suffered through hell.

* * *

_Three years ago..._

Vanitas was late for his first day at school. He was running like a mad man, agilely dodging all of the obstacles in his way. He had stayed up late working on his latest essay about how schools raised their students like livestock for society to slaughter in the future. The boy found the topic too interesting and made the mistake of sleeping after midnight, and he was reaping what he sowed.

Finally, the black-haired youth had reached his destination, Twilight High School. He dashed through the guard stationed at the main gate without a second thought and passed through the empty hallways and entered the quadrangle. Apparently, the school had a tradition of having an opening ceremony every fist day of the week, and it looked like he was late for his first one.

By the time he got there, he was trying to catch his breath and on his knees. His adviser took note of his late presence and wrote it down on the attendance sheet. The ceremony was midway through, when the principal of the school noticed the new arrival and decided for some friendly audience interaction in her speech.

Most of the students weren't actually paying attention to what the principal was saying at all, though some were pressured to by teachers. "Attention all students and faculty, it would seem that our new student has finally decided to grace us with his presence."

Mutterings of interest and confusion echoed across the quadrangle. "Now in relation to this month's topic, may I call forward the new student Vanitas Caelum to the front to give us the definition of _generosity_."

"Wuh?" The exasperated boy looked up to see the principal gazing expectantly at his direction. It didn't seem like he had a choice, so he complied.

The boy steadily made his way to the microphone and asked a question. "Do you want a subjective definition?"

To this, the principal nodded content. The student body was listening curiously as to what the newbie would say. Some of them, betting he'd embarrass himself.

"Generosity," answered Vanitas,"is the trait of wanting to make oneself feel better by giving something to a second party. It is a selfish act that society approves of as both parties often benefit from it."

_Silence._

For a moment, the entire human population quieted. But then one student among the crowd burst into laughter and the entire crowd followed suit."Hahaha," the particular blond student laughed, "that's hilarious. You're a riot Vani. Generosity, selfish? That's rich!"

The principal had an uncomfortable smile plastered on his face, he couldn't take back his word on the subjective definition. "Then might I ask, what definition would you give generosity, Mr. Strife?"

The man lightly shoved Vanitas away from the microphone stand and gestured for the blond to step up. Quickly enough, the boy followed his principal's wishes and came forward, flashing a meaningful look at Vanitas.

"Generosity is...," the blond began dramatically, "IS THE WILLINGNESS TO GIVE ONE'S TIME OR BELONGING TO ANOTHER IN AN BEAUTIFUL ACT OF SELFLESSNESS AND KINDESS!"

The crowd roared in cheer for the boy's overzealous cry. The teachers clapped and the principal smiled widely.

"That's our Ventus!"

"The wise one has spoken!"

"Marry me Strife!"

Vanitas uncomfortably left the stage through the side, unseen and unheard.

.

It went without saying, but Vanitas ended up as public enemy number one in school. Everywhere he went, students would flash him dirty looks, verbally abuse him or maybe even try to beat him up. Yet the boy took it all, not retaliating one bit. He was a good kid raised by responsible parents. He was reared up not to get into scuffles, but the bullying only got more violent.

He'd arrive home bruised and bloody. His parents arrived home late, which gave the boy time to wash up. He didn't want to trouble his hard working parents. The teachers didn't seem to care much for Vanitas' condition. He concluded that they too shared resentment for him, even if it was just a little. People had seem to forgotten that he too was a human, anomaly or not. He guessed that it was because he had said that outrageous statement during the season of giving. Still, it was pretty inhuman.

This was society's way of correcting its anomalies, its method of uniforming all pieces of data. But through it all, the boy would continue writing his essays on the issues of interest that transpired within in his mind. But they only got darker and darker.

Weeks passed, and the day of the school Christmas party came. Vanitas didn't really want to attend, but as the school mandated, the presence of all students was compulsory, him included. That day was terrible. All of the classes had organized their own individual programs. They played games, gave prizes and ate food together. But of course, Vanitas didn't participate, any interaction would just leave the boy with more scars.

The party was nearing its end and it was time for the exchange of gifts between secret Santas. Vanitas had picked a girl named Aqua Dylandy, the girlfriend of the one called Ventus who made a fool of him on his first day. He didn't really like her, but impartially, he got her a beautiful silver and blue wayfinder keychain all wrapped up in a nice blue box. He gave it to the girl with a smile. She, on the other hand, wore a fake smile of consideration.

But that's when things turned sour. Aqua gave him a gift, as well, which was odd since she had already given a gift to a girl named Kairi just a few seconds ago. Hope sparkling in his eyes, Vanitas excitedly unwrapped the gift. But, he had made the mistake of hoping from the system. Inside the gift box, was an empty dream, a big chunk of coal.

The smile that was about to form on Vanitas' face instantly came to a stop, his eyes turned void and unreadable. Unexpectedly, he felt a hard object hit his back. He turned around and spotted a green gift box with a deformed edge. He didn't open it, but instinctively knew its content and sender. Soon afterwards, several other colorfully decorated boxes were thrown at the downcast boy. Brown, orange, silver, yellow. He could name them all. But at that moment, they all looked the same to him, coal black.

Pretty soon, Vanitas collapsed on the cold hard floor, landing in the comfort of a sea of black empty boxes. The sea shifted from black to sanguine in a moments notice.

The boy blacked out, and found himself lying on a white bed in the infirmary.

Colorless tears cascaded off his soft pale face.

That day, something died inside him.

His last light of hope was extinguished by the dark mist of despair.

No longer was he the fragile Vanitas they all loved to pick on, now he was the empty husk that thirsted for retribution.

When classes resumed on January, his classmates were startled to find a completely different Vanitas, one more dangerous. Most of them stopped the bullying, only back talking him in the boy had been reborn anew. He still, however, wrote his beloved short essays. But they no longer shone with the same light of interest they once did before. Instead, they were cynical, shrouded in darkness.

At school, the boy was a monster to be feared, but at home was a different story. Once he took the first steps on his family's property, he'd crumble into a nervous wreck. He would lock himself in his room and throw violent fits, thrashing wildly and ruining all his belongings. He would spout curses and insults aimed at society, the people at school or maybe Ventus Strife. How he loathed those nameless imbeciles. They were all the same in his eyes, indistinguishable. But the strangest thing was that when he would have his fits of rash anger, they'd often be coupled with transparent teary eyes.

The boy questioned this baffling behavior for several weeks before he came to a final conclusion:

_He loved society._

Such a mind-blowing realization was this, that he threatened to kill himself right there and there in his bedroom bereft of human company. How could an anomaly constantly writing satires depicting the evils of society ever whole-heartedly love it? But the answer to that was as clear as day; he just kept on denying it.

The reason he despised society so much was because he was frustrated that it wouldn't reciprocate his feelings. He was like a child wanting his parents to love him after committing a mistake. Yet, he just constantly tried to come up with excuses for himself, crying that he was just unique, special or even none of that meant anything to the one thing he loved most.

The realization was certainly the last thing he expected, but realistically speaking, it changed nothing.

Society would constantly declare it's utter dislike for Vanitas while he perpetually showed hints of attractions for it to catch on to. But the boy realized, that it was blind and would never acknowledge his feelings.

So he gave up.

He left things the way they were.

Unresolved.

For it was the only way things could ever be.

* * *

_Back to present..._

Vanitas Caelum was now resting on his soft black bed, pondering upon all of the dark thoughts and memories that circulated his mind. A lone question strayed from the rest.

"Who took me to the infirmary that day?" he wondered aloud to himself, "At the time, I was sure the teacher had already left for the faculty party, so it had to be a classmate of mine... but who?"

That's when the familiar sound of a trinket dangling on a blue pencil case he saw the other day reverberated in his head.

_Could it be her?_

_But why?_

_._

_A/N: There. Done. My first one-shot. It's not perfect, but I'm pretty happy with it. I know it could use a lot of improvement, so please give me some tips and advice on what to change. But content-wise, Vanitas is the embodiment of the despair and resentment I have for society. It maybe misguided or simply childish. But hey, I'm stupid that way. Can you guys guess who threw the green box at Vanitas at the party and who saved him on that day?_

_In a way, this could be my Christmas fic. It's pretty twisted though, just the way I like it. I may or may not write a sequel on the fate of Vanitas' future._

_And for what it's worth, merry Chrismas! (my family doesn't celebrate it, but we are not not-Chrisitian)_

_I hope you people review. Positive or Negative, I don't care much._

_~FS~_


End file.
